Wasting Tears On You Novels & Stories

I deactivated my social media accounts except for my Twitter account that became my virtual diary. I am indulging myself with tv series I can watch on Netflix. Some series there has a moral lesson that also made me realize about small things. At times like this, we need to change. “Tears can be teachers if we let them” I saw a phrase on the internet. I instantly took a screenshot of it. This quote is realistic. If we let our tears be our teachers, then it will teach us a lot of lessons in life. Crying doesn’t mean a person is weak. Crying is a way where we need to let go of the pain, sadness, and anger in our hearts. After we cry, everything will be okay.

My tears blurred my vision. “Stop making this expensive joke!”

Joyce said. "Th...thank you so much." I muttered, and those irresistible pool of tears formed their way around my eyes. "Don't tell me that you're gonna cry again." Joyce said as I nodded negatively. "I need assurance, because your eyes have no control, they get wet almost all the time, and I wonder what fuels them." Joyce said, while I tried to control the flow of tears, it was embarrassing to have to tear out all the time. "I won't get emotional again." I muttered as she then nodded.

They had been waiting for him to awake when a nurse come to examine him only for her to declare to their utter disbelief that she was sorry they had lost their loved one. Her eyes misted over and she felt a tear slide down her. Then another followed from the other eye and another and another. They were tears of wrenching agony. A sob escaped from her throat, drawing her mother’s attention. The mother had seen the wounded look on Becky’s face and had tried without much success to console her. “Stop crying,” she had said. “I know how this is hurting but you can’t keep crying like this.”

"What's all this about?" Her wide eyes blinked at me, clearly not expecting that. I grabbed a chair, dragged it closer to the bed, and sat down. Leaning forward with my elbows on my knees, I met her gaze head-on. I was close enough to see every detail of her trembling lips and wet lashes, close enough to notice the deliberate way she controlled even her tears. "Tears," I said flatly, "only matter when someone actually feels sorry for you. Otherwise, they’re just annoying."

🥀 MELONIE'S POV 🥀 I felt the tears welling up inside me, a dam about to burst. I tried to hold them back, to stem the tide of emotions that threatened to overwhelm me. But it was no use. The floodgates opened, and I was consumed by a torrent of grief. I sobbed uncontrollably, my body shaking with each ragged breath. Tears streamed down my face, hot and salty, as I wailed in anguish. I felt like I was drowning in my own sorrow, unable to escape the crushing weight of my emotions.

What was so enticing about them that you kept returning like a fly to fruit? A tear rolled down my face and made a perfect spherical drop on the dusty floor. Crying… I was actually crying. Why wouldn’t I? My love was taken from me. But at the end of the day, crying was pathetic; it was pointless; it wasn’t going to bring her back.

“Don't get teary. You'll ruin the make-up.” I blink my tears in and heave a sigh. “Isn't life so mysterious?” I thought.

The words come out and a single tear drops from my eye, rolling down my cheek. ##########

Anytime I think about it, I tear up so badly, crying myself to sleep. “Valeria,” Jessica snapped into my thoughts. I looked up at her; she was looking at me with her arms folded and her lips pulled up in a frown. “I don’t know what is making you sad, but don’t ruin the make-up; it took us hours to cover those eye bags, so hold those tears,” she snapped. I looked at the mirror; they truly did a good job covering the eye bags and tear lines. The makeup is beautiful; I look beautiful with the thousands of layers of foundation, but I don’t feel beautiful. I feel drained, and I wish the night would be over so I could sleep away my sorrows.